


The Marauders Start a Band

by simplysirius



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Feels, Feels, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, M/M, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Music, One Shot, Pining, Relationship(s), Remus x Sirius, band au, i would die to see snape sing aerosmith honestly, sirius x remus, wolfstar, wolfstar angst, wolfstar fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26915470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplysirius/pseuds/simplysirius
Summary: The Marauders decide to enter a Battle of the Bands to win Gryffindor two hundred points, beat Snape, and win back Lily's affection. The only problem is that Remus can't sing, James can't play any instrument in the history of instruments, and Sirius' suggestions for band names threatens to get them expelled.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 1
Kudos: 54





	The Marauders Start a Band

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @simplysirius to read more of my fics!

When Sirius moved out of his family home, he vowed that he would never touch another piano for as long as he lived. The long hours hunched over the keys, the ache in his hands after hours of practicing, grimacing as he played a piece for his mother, too afraid to look over at her reaction; it was enough for him to make him want to spit on any piano he passed. It was too bad, really; Sirius was a gifted pianist, mastering intricate compositions with ease, letting his muscles follow the gentle melodies that rolled through the chords. His eyes would close, face falling placid and serene, and his fingers would dance up and down the keys with a rhythmic spring. 

All of that went to shit when Sirius saw a flier hanging on a bulletin board outside of the Slytherin dormitories in the basement of the castle, advertising a musical competition. A battle of the bands, of sorts. Sirius approached it with narrowed eyes; there was only one group signed up to perform. The Grease Monkeys. Sirius wasn’t even aware that there were students in bands at Hogwarts – there certainly were never any concerts echoing in the Grand Hall or any after hour band practices – but he could have died when he saw one name scribbled beside it: Severus Snape. On the top of the flier, written in small letters, was the prize. Sirius’ mouth dropped.

Remus lay on his bed, quietly reading a new book he had just checked out from the library. It was a romantic thriller that he had been dying to read, but he made sure to keep the cover concealed amidst his bed sheets; he didn’t need the taunting. James sat cross-legged, head bent over a potions assignment he was sure to fail. 

The bedroom door swung open with such a force that it slammed back against the wall and left a doorknob-sized indent in the wall. The sudden outburst was an all too normal occurrence in their room, and the boys hardly blinked an eye.

“Put your pants on losers, we’re starting a band,” Sirius announced, barging into the room.

Remus glanced up from his book for just a moment before his eyes flickered back to the pages, unaffected by yet another scheming plan. James arched an eyebrow, confusion etching across his face, curiosity glimmering in his eye.

“I’m listening,” James said, sitting up. 

“There’s a competition next week. One band from each house gets to enter. And guess who’s already signed up?” Sirius explained, kneeling on James’ bed and bouncing on the mattress. James leaned forward, eyes wide.

“No way.”

Remus slid his bookmark into the crook of the pages and cast it aside. “Why would Snape enter a singing competition.”

Sirius shrugged, cackling. “Who cares. But we can beat him. Imagine his face!” 

“You’re forgetting one important thing,” Remus noted, crossing the room to lean against James’ four-poster. He gestured around the room, his hands empty. “We can’t play instruments. We don’t even have instruments.”

“Not true,” Sirius denied with one finger raised. “According to you, I’m a fantastic pianist. And last time I checked, James had the highest score on your Rock Band video game. So really, you’re the only one who can’t play an instrument.”

“So how are we supposed to be in a band together?” James asked skeptically.

Sirius’ gaze turned to Remus, and he grinned wickedly. “I play keys. James plays drums. And Remus sings.”

“Absolutely not,” Remus refused, crossing his arms and sticking his nose in the air. James snorted, shaking his head, not entirely convinced. Beating Snape would be the highlight of his pranking career; but embarrassing himself in front of the whole of Hogwarts – and worse, Lily – was too great a risk.

“Fine, fine,” Sirius relented, holding up his hands. James and Remus glanced at each other, all too aware that it was never that easy. Sirius pushed himself off James’ bed and made for the bathroom. Just as he was about to close the door behind him, he cleared his throat. “I may have forgotten to mention. First prize is two hundred points.” He shut the door and held his ear against the wood.

James was silent for only a moment before he nearly screamed, “WHAT?”

Remus backed up, diving for his book, contemplating jumping out the window. He knew exactly where this was going. James followed him.

“We have to do this thing! We have to win! Two hundred points! Remus!” James cried, shaking his shoulders violently. “Do you know what two hundred points would do?”

“Earn Gryffindor back the points we lost from hanging Snape by his socks on the flag pole?” Remus suggested, deadpan. In hindsight, they should have expected severe punishment, but they never imagined that McGonagall would take away so many points from her own house, effectively putting Gryffindor in last place with no hope at the House Cup.

“Lily would talk to me again!”

It’s true. Lily hadn’t spoken a word to James since the incident; whether it was out of a shred of loyalty towards Snape or because she really did care about the standing of Gryffindor, James wasn’t sure, but he did know that he could not stand another day without talking to her.

James stared at Remus, eyes wide, more serious than he perhaps had ever been in his life. “Please.”

It was a well-known fact that if you stared at Remus long enough, if you squinted your eyes just right and tugged at the corners of your mouth, Remus Lupin would dissolve into a puddle of mush and give in to any demand, no matter how ridiculous or obscene. It had worked when Sirius asked Remus to skip class in their second year. It had worked when James roped him into the flag pole prank. And it worked now.

Remus sighed, and a giant smile spread over James’ face. “Fine. But this one time only.”

“Fuck yeah!” Sirius yelled, bursting out of the bathroom. “So what’s our name gonna be, boys? Prongs and the Dogs? Remus and the Full Moons? Sirius and the Sex Dolls?”

Rolling his eyes, Remus flopped onto his bed and pressed his face into his pillow. 

“Better start warming your voice up, Moons,” James prodded, receiving a prompt middle finger. Remus opened one eye just wide enough to peer out at him.

“You really do need to put on pants, mate,” Remus chided, nodding at James’ bare legs, thighs on proud display in high cut underwear.

James wiggled his hips and stuck his ass out towards Remus, patting the curve of his ass with a shit-eating grin. “You know you love it, baby.”

As a new band, their first order of business was to secure instruments. After scouring Hogsmeade for a single beat up drum kit or a halfway functioning keyboard, the odds looked slim, and all hope of Lily speaking to James again was diminishing. That was, however, until the boys realized how stupid they had been.

“We’re the smartest kids in school, why did it take us three days to figure it out?” James complained, leading the charge down the empty Hogwarts hallway. Remus made a pointed effort not to snidely comment. It was just past curfew, but neither James, Remus, nor Sirius were tired. Instead, they crept together under the invisibility cloak and watched with silent satisfaction as the ever-familiar door of the Room of Requirement appeared before them. 

“We require a room to have band practice so we can kick Snape’s ass and make Evans fall in love with Prongs,” Sirius instructed quietly, not daring to raise his voice over a whisper in case the house ghosts were lurking. 

Just inside the doors lay a perfectly arranged rehearsal space, a crisp drum set waiting to be smashed, a keyboard waiting to tango, and a microphone stand waiting to rock. James ran ahead, sitting behind the kit and toying with the drum sticks. He tried to spin them around his fingers, but accidently sent them scattering in opposite directions. Sirius approached the keyboard warily, harsh memories flooding back, but laid a gentle hand on the keys as a sign of surrender. Remus looked at the microphone through narrowed eyes, sizing it up as if it was his next opponent to fight in the boxing ring.

“Alright let’s get this rehearsal going, Sirius and the Sex Dolls!” Sirius announced, trilling on the high octaves of the keyboard.

“That’s not our name,” Remus reminded. When they had written their names on the competition sign-up sheet, Remus had pointedly left off their band name. It remained a point of contention, but it was generally agreed upon that Sirius would not oversee naming their group. “What are we supposed to do? We don’t have any songs.”

“Just sing the first thing that comes to mind,” Sirius urged. “We’ll fill in the music.”

Remus frowned. What was the last song he listened to? Something by the Stones? The Beatles? What were the words to Night Fever again? He took a deep breath and firmly grasped the microphone. 

“What’s new Scooby Doo/We’re comin’ after you/We’re gonna solve that mystery–”

“Scooby Doo?” James interrupted. “That’s the first song you thought of?”

Remus threw his hands in the air. “I don’t know! It’s almost Halloween, why not?”

“We’re not singing Scooby fucking Doo in front of the whole school,” Sirius agreed. “Pick literally any other song, Moony.”

“You pick,” Remus shook his head. 

Sirius thought about it for a moment. “What about American Pie?”

“Never heard of it,” Remus replied.

“Okay. Oh, we could do Wild Thing by The Troggs?”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“Let’s do Call Me!” James interjected.

Sirius sighed in frustration. “Clearly Lily would want to fuck a guy who’s in a band that covers Blondie.”

“Yeah, but it would remind her to call me over the holiday. Or send a letter,” James muttered, toying with his cymbals. 

“We have a week until the competition,” Sirius decided, “let’s just practice playing today. No songs. Just…music.”

It was the only option they had, really, and since Sirius was the presumed Band Member in Charge, his word was the law. He turned towards his keyboard and let his hands run up and down the keys, warming up his joints, wincing when his fingers weren’t as nimble and dexterous as they once were with hours of practice every day. Beside him, James crashed his sticks into his kit, fumbling a little when he tried to match the beat of the kick drum with his frantic hands. Remus sat in the corner twirling the microphone chord, humming little riffs to himself and trying to stay on pitch without even knowing what pitch was. 

For what it’s worth, Remus made a mental note to find the portrait of the person who built Hogwarts and thank him for shrouding the Room of Requirement in silencing charms. Band practice was more like a cacophony of wailing musical instruments in the midst of a brutal murder, and it surely wouldn’t last long in the Gryffindor common room. 

Even after an hour, they didn’t seem to be getting much better. Sirius couldn’t seamlessly get through an A to B sharp chord progression without his fingers slipping onto the wrong note, and James had nearly punctured a hole in his right snare drum from hitting it so hard. Remus’ voice, though sweet and dripping with honey under any normal circumstance, was patchy and rough at best when he tried to string words along in a simply melody. Sirius found it endearing – and dangerously distracting – but he also knew they didn’t stand a chance at winning the competition. That is, unless Snape and his Grease Monkeys took a cue from Remus and sang Scooby Doo.

“That’s it. Let’s call it a day,” Sirius sighed, utterly defeated. He stood up from his stool and stretched his arms over his head, and Remus pretended not to notice the expanse of exposed stomach revealed by Sirius’ shirt rising up.

“Is there a potion that will gift us all magic musical abilities?” James asked, tossing his sticks aside angrily. It appeared that holding the legendary high score on Remus’ Rock Band video game did not translate into any actual drumming talent. It pissed James off to no end.

Remus shook his head, tearing his eyes away from Sirius. “No, but I can mix up a couple deadly draughts.”

“That would be perfect! Kill off the rest of the competition and we win by default!” Sirius cheered, slinging an arm around Remus’ shoulders. James hollered in agreement.

“Not exactly what I was talking about,” Remus mumbled, cheeks blushing a bright carmine. 

That night, when they had all gone to bed still musing about their band name – The Where Wolves! Sirius shouted at the same time James suggested Barking Mad and Remus wryly said The Oh Deers – Remus slipped out from beneath his blankets and tiptoed to the four-poster beside his.

“Are you awake?” He whispered, as if he didn’t know the answer.

“No,” came a response in the dark, “I’m Sirius.”

Remus rolled his eyes and lifted the sheets, curling up next to a very much awake Sirius, who was blinking at him with curious eyes. They had established a routine where Sirius would pretend to go to sleep in his own bed and then accidentally sleepwalk into Remus’ bed every night, and now, Remus was breaking tradition. Sirius liked it.

“I think we need to know what we’re up against,” Remus decided. “Our band–”

“Sirius and the Gorgeous Gryffindors–”

“–absolutely not. We suck. I mean, you’re great. But we suck. If we want any chance at winning this thing, we have to know what Snape’s planning.” 

Sirius’ eyebrows arched into his hair, impressed and a little proud. “Do you mean to tell me that you, Remus Lupin, are suggesting we spy on our competition so we can make sure we’re the best?”

Remus managed a meek shrug, feigning innocence. “Something like that.”

“You’re an evil genius,” Sirius smiled, leaning over and kissing Remus’ cheek. “And I fucking love it.”

Remus was grateful Sirius couldn’t see the furious blush creeping over his cheeks. He closed his eyes, not knowing that Sirius stared at his small smile all night until he fell asleep.

Instead of band practice the next day, Remus, James, and Sirius snuck down to the dungeons, once again underneath the cloak, and followed the Marauder’s Map to where Snape’s name hovered around in an abandoned classroom deep in the Hogwarts labyrinth. Even if they didn’t have the Map, the boys could follow the unmistakable screech of an electric guitar tearing through the air, followed by a dramatic run on the drums. They looked at each other for only a moment, eyes wide, and ran the rest of the way towards the classroom.

With their ears cupped on the door, Remus, James, and Sirius strained to hear. 

“Okay,” Snape’s gravelly voice sighed, “let’s do this again.”

The shrill whine of the guitar hurt Remus’ ears, but there was one thing they all knew for sure: Snape could, somehow, for some godforsaken reason, shred the guitar. 

“Sing with me/Sing for the year/Sing for the laughter/Sing for the fear,” Snape crooned into what could only be the world’s loudest, most amplified microphone.

“Oh my god he’s singing Aerosmith,” James cackled, clamping his hands over his mouth and doubling over. Sirius nudged him in the ribs to keep him quiet, but Snape must have already heard him, as his song was cut short and the distinctive pounding of heavy footsteps approached the door.

The boys stumbled backwards, running for their lives down the hallway, just barely keeping the cloak wrapped around their shoulders. Snape whipped open the door and peered out, eyebrows furrowed and teeth clenched. He retreated back into the classroom and locked the door.

By the time they made it back to their dorm, Remus was ninety percent sure his lungs were about to explode, Sirius’ chest heaved hard enough to shake his shoulders, and James knew they were fucked. 

“That grease bucket is singing Aerosmith. And he’s good. How the fuck can that asshole actually sing?” James exclaimed, pacing around the room. He kicked his trunk for good measure and then instantly regretted it, hopping from foot to foot. “Scooby Doo is not going to beat Aerosmith and Lily is never going to talk to me again.”

“Does this mean we can drop out now?” Remus asked hopefully.

“No,” Sirius replied, resolute. He sprawled on the floor – as if there wasn’t three perfectly good beds in the room – and stared at the ceiling, his face overcome with a perplexed, percolating expression that suggested he was either thinking hard or had to go to the bathroom. “It means that we aren’t singing Aerosmith. We can’t beat him at his own game, so we have to change the rules.”

James and Remus looked at each other, confused, and shrugged. Sirius peered up at them, a slow smile spreading on his face.

“Remus, have you ever heard of Neil Diamond?”

It was, Remus and James admitted, an ingenious strategy. How he thought of it, Sirius would never say, but he knew it would work. They practiced every day after class for hours, until James’ arms ached and Sirius suddenly remembered why he hated the piano. It was long and grueling, but they’d be damned if they weren’t the ones who launched Gryffindor back to the top of the house points leaderboard. 

On the day of the competition, the Grand Hall was transformed into the ultimate concert venue. The ceiling was bewitched into a starry night sky, with bright firework explosions streaking across the wide expanse, raining down confetti every so often. Below it, the long dinner tables were removed, allowing for a massive dance floor and plenty of space for the students to watch the performances. On the tall stage in front of it, a pristine set of instruments sparkled under bright spotlights, a single microphone waiting to held. In the back of the room, a table was erected for the judges to observe the competition. McGonagall, Dumbledore, Pomfrey, and three other professors took their seats, clipboards in hand.

The first two acts were less than overwhelming. The Hufflepuff band, an acapella group, had tripped and murdered their way through You’re the One that I Want from Grease. It was off tempo and the harmonies were rough, but it got the crowd into the rhythm and the judges were at least entertained. Remus liked it because Sirius danced along and poked his ribs every time they sang the lyrics “you’re the one that I want, oo, oo, oo.” The Ravenclaw performance was a startling operatic interpretation of Call Me by Blondie, much to James’ chagrin. It was spooky and ethereal, with weird gongs and chimes echoing in the large room. When they finished, the audience slowly clapped, not entirely sure what to think. The judges nodded cautiously.

And then it was Snape’s turn. He passed James, Sirius, and Remus with his nose in the air, not sparing them a second glance. James was about to comment some rude quip about breaking a leg, but when he saw Lily out in the crowd watching him, he kept quiet.

Snape took the stage despite some stifled laughter circulating around the room and slung the red electric guitar over his head. He cleared his throat, and then started strumming. The look of shock that simultaneously crossed every face in the audience – and the judging panel – was almost comical, if James still wasn’t worried about beating him. Snape masterfully worked the guitar, and the crowd went wild as he sang the first words of the prechorus, not bothering with the boring parts of the song.

By the time he got to the best part – the screaming wail of dream on, dream on, dream on – the crowd was practically throwing themselves at his feet, hands waving in the air, screaming the words back to him. Even the professors had let their clipboards fall to the wayside, temporarily forgetting about their judging duties. 

Snape finished his song with an iconic, octave-defying scream, and as he looked out into the audience, he knew without a shred of doubt that this would be the best night of his life. He bowed deeply, smiling when the audience shouted encore, encore, and waved as he exited off the stage. He again said nothing to James, Remus, or Sirius, but he smiled triumphantly, and it’s all he needed to do to make anger rise in James’ throat.

“You sure this is going to work?” He asked Sirius, as if they had time to change songs and practice before walking out onto the stage in the next thirty seconds.

“Trust me,” Sirius said, nodding. “Ready Moony?”

No one had to tell Remus that the success of their performance rested in his hands. Or rather, his voice. Remus managed a shaky, sarcastic thumbs up, and the three boys filed onto the stage. 

“Please welcome, the Marauders!” An announcer boomed. It was the first and only named they could agree on. It wasn’t as good as The Where Wolves, Sirius had insisted, but it would have to do.

The lights were brighter than Remus expected and he squinted out into the crowd. He couldn’t see many individual faces, but he knew the sea of people in front of them were waiting for them to make fools of themselves. He swallowed.

Behind him, Sirius set the keyboard to a humming bass guitar setting, and began tapping away at a simple melody that a five-year-old could master in a couple hours. James lightly rapped on the drums, not anywhere near as forceful and wild as he had been in practice, eyes on Lily. Remus stepped up to the microphone.

“Where it began/I can’t begin to knowing/But then I know it’s growing strong,” Remus said. It was the perfect song, requiring the lyrics to be said more rhythmically than in melody. Remus didn’t have to have a beautiful voice – god knows that Neil Diamond didn’t. 

The students below them glanced around, laughing at each other. This, this was the song that James, Sirius, and Remus, the misfit, mischievous, torturous bandits of Hogwarts decided to sing? It only made sense.

“Hands, touching hands,” Remus continued. He raised his arms towards the audience, grasping their attention, begging them to join him. He smiled when he saw a few students already singing along. “Reaching out/Touching me/Touching you.”

This was the make or break moment, Sirius knew. The success of their competition relied on the crowd right here, right now. He held his breath.

“Sweet Caroline-!” Remus shouted, holding the microphone out to the audience.

“Bah, bah, bah-!” They sang back, and Sirius jumped, almost forgetting in his celebration that he had to keep playing. Beside him, James whooped, eyes sparkling as he watched Lily dance around with Marlene.

Remus took the microphone back for only a moment. “Good times never seemed so good-!”

“So good! So good! So good!” The audience finished, swaying along. One tall boy in the back held up his wand, the tip glowing a bright white, prompting other students to do the same. The result was a sea of shining wands, illuminating jubilant faces, and Sirius knew they had it. 

When the Marauders won the Battle of the Bands, Sirius expected the best part to be watching Snape’s face fall in disappointment, but it was actually something entirely different. Snape had attracted a few fans and was basking in his fleeting fame; even Sirius would admit that sometimes – and only sometimes – a smile looked nice on his greasy face. The best part about this whole stupid competition was looking at Remus, watching the confidence swell in his chest, grinning as he jumped up and down when they were announced as the winners. James, Sirius, and Remus had converged in a group hug, but when they pulled away, Sirius left a discreet kiss on the corner of Remus’ mouth that left them both sheepish and blushing. 

McGonagall handed Remus the trophy, a glamorous, golden microphone – James said it looked like something entirely different – that they displayed proudly on the Gryffindor dinner table for all to see. 

Much to James’ delight, with two hundred points stowed safely in the Gryffindor house point bank, Lily had resumed speaking to him, and had even agreed to finally – finally – go out on a date with him. When he burst into their bedroom a week later, guitar in hand, glasses hanging off one ear, he didn’t so much as blink at Sirius settled over Remus’ body, both boys frozen with their swollen mouths agape.

“Alright motherfuckers, time to learn Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“James?” Remus squeaked. It was all he could think to say.

“Bohemian Rhapsody?” Sirius choked, not having enough sense to disentangle his body from Remus’.

“Lily loves Queen, and I love Lily,” James said simply, like it explained everything. He put the guitar on his bed and made for the door again. “I’m gonna go find the lyrics.”

Sirius and Remus looked at each other, dazed. The door was halfway shut when James burst back in. “Also, thanks to you, Sirius, now I owe Lily ten galleons.”

“Why?” Sirius coughed, not sure if he really wanted the answer.

“I said you would be a bottom, not a top. Nice one, Moony,” James replied before shutting the door.


End file.
